Cancer isn’t all romantic septicemia, neutropenia and thrush.
There’s also the more pedestrian diarrhea, constipation, hemorrhoids, stomach cramping and nausea. I started this adventure mistakenly thinking I knew plenty about all those more commonplace maladies. At least as much as I ever wanted to know.
Knock on wood, but I’ve had extremely limited nausea. Smoking (vaping) pot before eating helps with stomach cramping and diarrhea, especially in the first week after chemo. Unfortunately, some of the drugs to mitigate chemo effects also cause constipation, so that’s a cost/benefit analysis…is it worth getting rid of the pain for a couple hours if it means no pooping for anywhere from one to five days?
Today I asked my nurse what she recommends for hemorrhoids. She said Tucks pads, and that she’d have some sent up from the pharmacy. I’ve never used them, but thought I had a pretty clear idea of what they were. A few hours later, the nursing assistant brought me a huge bundle, saying, “Here are your Tucks pads.”
Wow, I guess I didn’t know what Tucks pads were.
“How am I supposed to use them?” I asked.
“They go on the bed,” said the nursing assistant.
“To help with hemorrhoids?”
There had been some sort of miscommunication, and it made sense when I found out the bundle of bed pads are called Chux or Chucks pads, and they’re for incontinence. “Chucks pads” sounds a lot like “Tucks pads.” The Chux got returned, the Tucks got ordered and I thought we were getting to the end of the confusion when my nurse brought in the actual Tucks, gloved up, and approached with purpose, asking if I was wearing underwear.
Wait now. They’re very careful about how meds and supplies are doled out; I asked for Tums and was given one lonely Tum in a paper pill cup. My nurse would monitor my nasal spray use to confirm I was spraying only one spray in each nostril and then snatch the bottle away.
But it can’t be standard protocol for the nurse to take the lead on the cleansing ass wipe application? Really? I told her no, I was sure I could do it, and she seriously thought about keeping the package locked up until I requested them, Tuck by Tuck, as needed, up to the four applications per day as noted on my prescription. Tucks can’t possibly be prescription.
How the fuck would this even go? I press my call light. The nursing assistant comes into the room. I say I need a Tuck. She says the nurse has to administer that. The nurse comes in to confirm I need a Tuck. She leaves, then returns with a single Tuck rolled into a pill cup?
This all sounded like a whole lot of bullshit. They don’t seem prepared to handle hemorrhoids over here in the cancer ward. I wanted to get my sister Molly on the phone to straighten this shit out. Molly has worked as an OB post-delivery RN for years and years, and practically has advanced certification in hemorrhoids.*
I finally convinced my nurse that she could leave the package in the bathroom, and that the odds of me overdosing on witch hazel-soaked ass wipes were pretty low. She reluctantly relented, as long as I agreed to notify her every time I used a Tucks wipe so she could chart it appropriately. Fine. Whatever.
*I’d had a hemorrhoid conversation with Molly once where she mentioned that you can just tuck a Tucks** right in your ass crack and leave it if you’re having lots of irritation. I was thinking about that when I was handed the bundle of what turned out to be Chux, wondering how I could basically tuck a blanket into my ass and still wear pants. Very confusing.
**Definitely should be their next ad slogan.